


You are

by Zerikya



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, BDSM Scene, Blow Jobs, Choking, Dom Roronoa Zoro, Dom/sub, Face-Fucking, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sanji is a Brat, Sanji loves to pretend he's not in subspace, Sub Vinsmoke Sanji, These boys just like to fight, Zoro has to work hard to get Sanji deep in subspace but he's dedicated, Zoro is his Tamer, very light knifeplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 05:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17217713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerikya/pseuds/Zerikya
Summary: Sanji liked knowing that Zoro had to put all his energy into pushing him to his limits. He liked witnessing for himself the fact that he could handle everything the swordsman threw at him. He liked the man’s brutal strength, his cruelty, his never-really-satisfied desire, his hunger for the cook’s body.And fuck, did he like that cock.





	You are

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [C'est toi](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17201201) by [Zerikya](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zerikya/pseuds/Zerikya). 



> Hi! This is a translation of my own work. English is NOT my first language and you'll probably find that very obvious when you start reading. I sure hope it's not too bad though, and you can enjoy it as much as I did writing it!

“Is that all you can do? I’m gonna need much more than that to -”

“Shut up.”

Sanji bit his own lip to hide a satisfied grin. Bent over, back flat on which were resting Zoro’s precious weapons, legs apart, he was struggling to keep his balance, despite the swordsman’s powerful thrusts. It was fast, wild, their breathing was hard, the swords on Sanji’s back kept slamming together, but Sanji had to do everything in his power to avoid making them fall.

It wasn’t that the idea of what Zoro could think of as punishment repelled him, quite the contrary, and Sanji would have let the swords fall down without caring about it, _just to see_ , but tonight, he wanted to win the swordsman’s challenge. And since it appeared to consist in being fucked without letting fall any of the three katanas laying precarily on his back, well, so be it.

Even though for now, it wasn’t exactly a challenge. That needed saying.

“Seriously… is that the best you could think of, moss face?” he cursed, turning his head to the side so he could look arrogantly at Zoro straight in the eyes.

Sanji immediately felt Zoro’s grip on his hips turn into something enjoyably painful. His words were welcomed with a renewed vigor coming from the swordsman. The blond man winced - the swords on his back threatened to fall down.

“I told you to shut your mouth, cook.”

Sanji felt that one of the katanas was starting to fall for good. He abruptly arched his back, skillfully bringing balance back to the weapon before it was too late. He was forbidden to use his arms - that was part of the challenge too. For now, his arms were aligned with his torso, like Zoro had asked. Sanji had no intention of moving them for now.

He heard Zoro chuckle at his struggle and imagined him, a wide grin on his face, hunger in his eyes. A sweet warmth of satisfaction made its way to the chef’s chest.

“Well? Not as easy as it seems, huh?”

Sanji wanted to snap back, to mock again - he never got tired of Zoro’s false anger against him - but the swordsman put a stop to any rebellious intention the blond man might have had. His hands left his hips to grip the cook’s wrists tight and pulled towards him, impaling Sanji on his whole length without warning. The violence of the act rendered Sanji breathless, leaving him open-mouthed and shaking. Zoro stopped moving, allowing Sanji to realize his own situation.

Completely at the swordsman’s mercy - that was Sanji’s situation. His legs would have given out, the electric shocks of Zoro brutally touching his prostate almost unbearable, if he had been less resistant than he was now. Fists and jaw clenched tight, Sanji let himself be overrun by the radiating pain in his ass, relishing the way Zoro’s cock seemed to be made for him, his naked asscheeks pressed against the swordsman’s powerful hips, his wrists held so tight by Zoro’s strong hands he could feel blood rushing to the tip of his fingers…

The delicious moment seemed to almost stand still. Waves of pleasure rolled over Sanji and left him shaking - he liked being at the moss face’s mercy. He liked knowing that Zoro had to put all his energy into pushing him to his limits. He liked witnessing for himself the fact that he could handle everything the swordsman threw at him. He liked the man’s brutal strength, his cruelty, his never-really-satisfied desire, his hunger for Sanji’s body.

And fuck, did he like that cock.

“You’re not saying anything now, huh?” Zoro’s voice fell like a final sentence, deep-toned, in his back.

Sanji flashed a mocking smile. He didn’t even need to turn his head to show it to Zoro, he knew damn well that the swordsman already knew his expression by heart.

“Because I was waiting for something interesting to happen, pseudo swordsman.”

Zoro laughed, darkly, almost coldly, but Sanji knew how to find the warmth dedicated to him in that laugh.

“One of these days, cook, you’re gonna regret that running mouth of yours.”

“Try and make me regret, will you?”

Sanji was expecting to hear Zoro’s sweet, cruel laugh again, the one who always told him he was going to enjoy himself very much, but this time, it didn’t came. With a swift move, the swordsman swept his swords off the cook’s back, sending his blades flying in a corner of the room. Sanji didn’t have time to think about what Zoro wanted to do - he could only feel as the green-haired man joined his wrists behind his back to free one of his hands, only to lose it in Sanji’s hair. The cook rolled his shoulders - he wasn’t some sort of pet, and Zoro ought to remember that.

But the swordsman didn’t stop there - he suddenly fisted a handful of Sanji’s hair and pulled towards him. The cook, who was starting to tire of the uncomfortable position he was in, almost sighed in relief when he felt Zoro pull with such a strength that it was obvious he wanted Sanji to straighten completely, pushing his back up to the green-haired man’s chest. However, that motion made them both move. Zoro’s cock moved swiftly in Sanji, just enough for the chef to slightly open his mouth, gasping for air. His heart beat fast.

“ _Keep going._ ”

Sanji bit his lip as soon as the words made it past it. In his head, he swore at himself. _He didn’t want to lose control just yet._

He felt Zoro’s lips curl up in a satisfied grin against the thin skin of his neck. Sanji hated that grin, especially when he didn’t cause it consciously. He frowned. The swordsman stopped moving altogether.

Yet he needed that idiot moss face to _move_. His penis inside Sanji was an obstacle to his own pleasure, like an ice cube on his skin, burning and paralysing him down, but if he could just move, even the slightest motion, much like what had just happened, then it would be wonderful, then Sanji could lose himself, then…

“What was that, Sanji?”

The sound of his own name, in Zoro’s mouth, said with such a deep voice, rolling down his jugular and creating a line of chills all the way down his spine, almost made Sanji lose his stance. His body shook from head to toes, hair rising on the back of his neck. He opened his mouth to answer, but found he had lost his voice.

“You want me to…? What was it? I’m not quite sure I caught that…”

Sanji groaned in frustration when Zoro left his hair to move his arm in front of Sanji’s throat. The blond man’s eyes went rounder in apprehension. He braced himself, ready to fight to get away from the grip, but -

“Don’t move.”

The order reverberated through him like a knell in the middle of a storm, and he froze. _Fuck._ Zoro’s hand, the one that still blocked his wrists in his back, rose sharply, putting Sanji in a painful, uncomfortable armlock. He swore between his teeth.

“I’m in charge here, Sanji.” Zoro kept going, perfectly aware of what he was doing to the blond man.

Sanji’s cock hardened, looking for a contact, any contact, whether it be the wall in front of them that was way too far anyway, or Zoro’s hand that the cook wanted so badly to see go down his abs. He was dying of need, need to arch his back, to look for a friction, to make it himself if he had to, it didn’t matter, he just needed _something_ , but Zoro had told him not to move.

So Sanji stayed put.

The arm around his throat moved closer to his skin and soon, he felt a weak pressure, going stronger by the second, until he began to feel blood rushing to his face, until his windpipe felt so crushed he had trouble breathing.

Zoro knew Sanji was a damn of a good apneist. It certainly wasn’t the lack of air that was going to make the blond move - it was the blood in his brain, it was the lack of sensation in his limbs, it was _the extreme_ and he already indulged himself thinking about the split second where the cook’s instinct would take over his own order. Oh, how sweet the punishment would be, how gentle, how cold, how awfully slow and too fast he would make it. He would take it upon himself to never give Sanji what he needed, purposefully taking everything and giving nothing. He would play with his mouth, with his ass, with everything Sanji could give him and more, way more than that, and he would take, and _take_ , until the blond would beg to be spared. Thinking alone of what he had planned almost made Zoro lose his cold. But he didn’t budge.

Neither did Sanji.

The ship’s kitchen rang of Sanji’s painful wheeze. Zoro’s tanned skin sweated on Sanji’s pale one. The chef’s face was reddening fast. The swordsman didn’t move, cock still buried deep in Sanji, as if that was always its place, as if Zoro had been destined all his life to rest his cock in the blond’s warm ass.

There was something thrilling about how Sanji tried to even stop his muscles from contracting around Zoro’s length.The swordsman was making himself a feast of the cook’s obedience, of his resistance, of his incredible strength… of his unbelievable determination. That idiotic cook was way stronger than what he let everyone think. Zoro knew that damn well.

Fuck, Sanji was good.

Zoro could feel Sanji’s pulse against his arm. He was holding him, holding him tight, and most of all, he was hurting him. The swordsman knew that perfectly. He rose the hand that was holding Sanji’s wrists up a bit, increasing the unbearable pressure in his arms and shoulders. The groan, mixed with a whimper, that came out of Sanji’s deliciously blood-swollen lips almost made him lose control and fuck him hard, right here and then.

Nonetheless, he held back. The situation was too perfect to be ruined this stupidly.

“... Z… oro…”

The swordsman’s eyes immediately flashed towards the blond’s face. His eyes were wet with tears that were ready to fall down his red, swollen cheeks. An alarm rang in his mind.

“Cook? Is that too much?”

Worried, he began lowering the pressure on the blond’s neck, but a wheezing sound rang again, desperate:

“More…”

_Huh?_

“Harder, mosshead.”

Zoro stared, wide-eyed. ‘Must have been kidding. Sanji was on the verge of losing consciousness, it was so goddamn obvious, and yet, this shitty mad cook was asking for him to _choke him harder?_

“You think you’re gonna…”

A shuddering wheeze. Except for his lips and tongue, Sanji was perfectly still.

“... break me or something?”

Fire lit up between Zoro’s hips. He uncovered his teeth in a devilish grin. In a swift move, he pulled out and let go of Sanji’s throat completely. The blond man’s eyes grew wide as he took in a deep breath, throat painful. The swordsman abruptely hardened the pressure of his armlock, raising Sanji’s wrists up, causing the cook to whimper breathlessly, and kicked him behind the knees, finally letting go of his arms. The blond lost his balance, vision clouded with stars, and fell forward. Still too weak, he crashed on the hard wooden floor, arms useless. His throat was on fire, every breath felt like he was tearing up his own windpipe. He laid there, naked on his own kitchen’s floor, shaking with exhaustion.

There was a smile on his lips.

“Well, well, finally, you’re waking up…” he breathed, unable to speak louder.

He raised a hand to his throat and coughed. _Shit, he didn’t go easy this time._ His shoulders had almost dislocated too, but that would never happen, he was certain of it. Zoro knew his limits, he knew that he was forbidden to ever damage the cook’s arms. He could cut, twist, bite, bruise, create an entire work of art on Sanji’s body if he wanted to, but his arms were the only thing he couldn’t mess up too bad. But most of all, it was the idea that Zoro _could, if he wanted to_ , that was turning him on.

The swordsman didn’t wait for Sanji to breathe normally again. With a skillful kick, he turned Sanji over on his stomach, sat astride on him and thrusted at once.

The cook’s breath died. He winced, grinding his teeth, and pushed on his arms, determined to not let that mosshead win so easily, and managed to raise his torso just a bit, but Zoro tackled him down with only his hand, abruptly bringing Sanji back to reality, and his face against the kitchen floor. Sanji swore between his teeth. Again, stars clouded his vision, and his entire body shook. He spread his legs, ready to use them as momentum to turn himself over, but he hadn’t considered the bite of a cold blade against the thin skin covering his jugular.

He stopped thrashing.

Zoro chuckled in his back. Sanji grinded his teeth but didn’t say a word.

“You _really_ can’t move now, huh, cook?”

“You piece of…” began Sanji.

Zoro almost pulled out and, with extraordinary force, thrusted back in immediately. Sanji’s heart missed a beat. He gasped. _Again._  

_Please, again._

He bit his lower lip.

“What have I told you dozens of time already, Sanji? Shut the fuck up.”

The music of his name sliding against Zoro’s tongue made Sanji grin. The cook turned his head to meet the gaze of the man above him. Shûsui cut into his skin, drawing blood. Zoro didn’t move the blade. Sanji didn’t budge, metal biting his flesh.

“I’ll shut up when I want to, you fucker.”

The swordsman groaned, grinding his teeth.

“Little brat.”

A rush of adrenaline took over Sanji, who tried to stand again - but the man was holding him down, holding him _good_.

Zoro let go of Shûsui’s handle to press a hand down Sanji’s lower back, causing the cook to arch in pain, and he grabbed his right hip. Then, he fucked him.

Hard.

After a dozen thrusts, along which Sanji’s head kept bobbing around, the cook clenched his fists so hard he felt every little half-moon marks his nails were leaving on his palms. He was _hurting, really hurting_ , but he felt so alive, and fuck, this was much more powerful than any cigarette puff, more powerful than being a part of the next King of Pirates’ crew, more powerful even to think of All Blue.

Zoro’s cock brushed his prostate, and finally, _finally_ , a moan of pleasure made its way out Sanji’s throat.

The swordsman immediately pulled on Sanji’s hair, exposing his sweating, open, blissful face, unrelentlessly slapping his hips against the cook’s ass.

The chef’s face was a pure wonder. The red mark around his neck only brought out the paleness of his forehead, the pink halo of his cheeks, the tears at the corner of his eyes, his mouth and trembling lips, half-open and swollen. But most of all, it was Sanji’s look, stuck on his, that made the swordsman’s heart skip a beat. That look was burning, lascivious and hungry, desperate and grateful. Piercing through a gaze, as if the cook was intoxicated with Zoro’s cock inside him, with his grip on his hair. Half-closed lids, like he wanted to relish himself on the feeling of only existing to satisfy the man dominating him with all his strength.

Zoro didn’t resist. He sank his teeth in Sanji’s exposed shoulder. The blond screamed. The sound, high and throaty, renewed Zoro’s vigor. _Again. Scream again,_ his body seemed to say, meeting again and again with Sanji’s ass.

The green-haired swordsman tasted Sanji’s skin as if it were a pastry made by the chef himself, he sucked lightly, bit, licked without leaving a bit, covering the blond’s neck and shoulder with purplish marks. _You’re mine._

“Tell me…” Zoro whispered in Sanji’s ear when he was done with his neck. “Tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

Sanji gasped for air. Zoro wouldn’t stop to let him catch his breath and answer clearly - he would have to talk while his body shook under the swordsman’s assault, while his ass seemed to be on the verge of tearing, while his voice was but a toneless whisper he couldn’t control…

“You…”

A moan escaped his lips. Zoro had added a thumb in his ass, along with his penis that was taking all the place already. The swordsman had him wrapped around his fingers. Fuck, that was good.

“Yes?”

“You.. You’re… Argh!”

Sanji hadn’t seen that coming - the hand that was gripping at his hair suddenly slapped him down by the back of his neck, pinning him to the ground. He groaned.

“I won’t wait forever, Sanji. Come on, tell me.”

_Fucker. Let me fucking speak._

“You piece of…!”

Sanji didn’t have enough time to finish what he wanted to say. He knew immediately he had taken it too far.

Zoro stopped thrusting.

Tears immediately rose to the chef’s eyes.

“No!”

He rose his hips, rolled them recklessly, searching for the pace Zoro had established, but the man wouldn’t move, and Sanji found himself thrusting on his own, tears rolling down his cheeks, eyes open wide, desperate.

“No, no, wait!”

He bit his lip. _Fuck, I’m not gonna beg for it, am I?_ But it was too late to regain control of his own mind.

“No, keep going, don’t stop, shit, fuck me!”

Zoro let go of him completely and crossed his arms on his chest. Sanji, with a speed he didn’t even know he had, rose on his knees and elbows, arched his body and pushed back, fucking himself on Zoro’s hard cock, again and again and again, pushing desperately.

“Sanji.”

Electric shock. Sanji held back a sob. He stopped moving. He was shaking. Restless. Eager.

“Who’s in charge?”

The question, asked with such a low voice, fell down on Sanji like a death penalty, and he came undone.

He lowered his head. The answer made it past his lips, soundless. A secret. A secret he couldn’t reveal out loud.

The cook tried to move, to fuck himself again, but his attempt was welcomed with a violent, powerful, _painful_ slap on his asscheek. A pitiful noise escaped his lungs. A sob.

“It’s the last time I’m asking you. Who’s in charge here?”

Sanji shook his head. No. He had said it already. He had said it - Zoro simply didn’t hear him. He wouldn’t say it again. It was too much, he couldn’t, and _fuck_ , why wasn’t he moving, how could he leave him like this, on the verge of…?  

“I need you to say it out loud, Sanji.”

 _Stop using my name, you know I can’t hold back, you know it damn well, you fucking asshole -_ His shoulders trembled.

A wave washed over him.

“You are.”

He burst into tears.

“You are, you are, you are!”

He was screaming now, desperate.

“You are, you are, _you are, you are!_ ”

_Shit!_

Unable to hold back, he groveled down, chest resting on the cold wooden floor, arms shaking at the sides of his face, back arched in such a way it almost hurt.

“ _YOU ARE, ZORO!”_

The warmth of Zoro’s hand brushed his cheek, swiping off one of the numerous tears rolling down his face. Sanji calmed down immediately. He shivered.

“Was it _really_ that hard, Sanji?”

The cook pursed his lips together. His shoulders were shaking from his silent sobbing. Weakly, he shook his head no.

Zoro had never witnessed anything so beautiful. Sanji was lying down, bowed down before him, his ass offered and full, frustrated tears rolling down his graceful face, screaming his name. Nothing was prettier than the blond man’s defeat. The swordsman wanted to devour it whole.

He pulled out slowly, careful not to hurt the cook who had tightened around him in his frustration. He felt his submissive’s distress and managed to make out the weak moan that made it past the blond’s lips.

“Don’t worry, Sanji, I’m gonna give you want you want. You can still be patient, can’t you? You’re so good to me.”

Sanji was losing his mind. He was so frustrated he couldn’t think of anything other than how much he _needed_ the orgasm Zoro was keeping from him. His cock was already leaking with pre-cum, even though the swordsman hadn’t even touched it yet. _Fuck._ The compliment rang through him, and deep inside him, he remembered he was much more resilient than this. It was hard, it was _so hard_ , but he could do it. He could wait.

“Do you want to make me happy, Sanji?”

He felt like someone had just wrapped him in a warm blanket, and pushed a cup filled with hot cocoa in his hands. Pleasuring the swordsman was almost as blissful as being satisfied himself. Sanji smiled. Zoro’s hands lost itself in his hair. He ruffled against it.

“Yes.”

“Yes who?”

Sanji opened his eyes - he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. He looked straight at Zoro on top of him. He had to bend his neck to make sure the swordsman could fully enjoy his face wet with tears, his mouth open with desire, the warmth of his soul. He bit his lower lip and let his eyes express how much he wanted to serve Zoro.

Zoro hardened his grip on Sanji’s hair, hurting his skull just a tad bit, to remind him he needed to answer. The blond man’s face broke into a blissful smile.

“Yes, Zoro.”

The swordsman’s satisfied expression helped him to finally get a grip on reality.

“That’s good.”

The samurai bent over and kissed Sanji’s open mouth. 

“I want you to seek for forgiveness, for all those insults earlier. Do you want to be forgiven, Sanji?”

The cook nodded.

“Tell me. Look me in the eyes when you speak.”

“Yes, Zoro.”

“Give me a color, please.”

“Green.”

“Good. I’m proud of you.”

As slowly as he could, Zoro let his hand wander down Sanji’s spine, lower and lower, until one of his fingers slided between the cook’s strained asscheeks. The blond man arched his back abruptly, fever in his eyes. _He’s ready,_ thought Zoro to himself. _I could make him come right now if I wanted to._

“Blow me. Blow me and show me how much you want my cock in your tight little ass.”

Sanji opened his mouth and was about to lick Zoro’s penis, but the swordsman took his chin in his hand in a swift move and raised the blond’s head to meet his gaze.

“If you come without permission, I’m going to tie you up right here, naked, for everyone to see, until sunrise. Am I making myself clear?”

Sanji shivered. _Yes. Fuck yes._ He nodded, and without wasting anymore time, took Zoro’s penis in his mouth.

The surprised “oh” that made its way past Zoro’s lips when Sanji made his cock bump against the very back of his throat filled him with pride. He had to show how much he wanted him? Fine. He was going to do much more than that - he was going to bring Zoro to fuck him as hard as he could. He was going to make him lose his mind.

After all, it was one of the things he was best at.

He stayed there for a couple seconds, lips tight around the base of Zoro’s cock, nose buried in his skin, feeling like he was so full he could barely breathe. He purred, making his throat vibrate, then stepped back. With one hand, supporting himself with the other one, he masturbated the cock in front of him to allow himself to catch his breath, then went back to deepthroating.

Zoro chuckled.

“That’s how you want to play this, huh?”

The finger that was still between his cheeks, painfully tempting, suddenly moved past his muscles and thrusted in, up to the base. Sanji moaned around Zoro’s cock, his own penis painfully, almost unbearably erect. Breathless, he wanted to step back again, but Zoro pushed his face down instead, forcing him to keep his whole cock in his throat.

“No, no, Sanji, certainly not - you want to play, then we’re gonna play. Stay here. Play with your tongue.”

Sanji did as he was told. With the tiny bit of space he had, he moved his tongue along the base of the swordsman’s cock, while Zoro began fingering him mercilessly slow. Sanji could in no way come just from that, and that just made the whole situation much, much more cruel. He could only retaliate by making his throat vibrate, moaning low with honest pleasure, letting his tongue move as much as he could.

Air wouldn’t immediately be a problem. If he wanted to, Sanji could hold his breath for five minutes straight, and he intended to show Zoro just how talented he was. The green-haired man would ask for more before Sanji reached his limit, he swore to himself.

More so than the anal stimuli, it was Zoro’s moaning that made Sanji go mad. Zoro might have had the control over this whole situation, but Sanji wouldn’t let him do everything he wanted so easily, and he intended to make that known. Without stepping back one bit, he rolled his head around, still moving his tongue, still purring along with Zoro’s tiny thrusts.

_Come on, mosshead. Let it go._

One minute passed, and Zoro finally muttered between his teeth:

“You think you’re so smart, huh, cook?”

With those words came a hard, noisy slap against the blond’s asscheeks. He squinted his eyes, in pain, then rolled his hips, all tempting. His reaction had the desired outcome, since two seconds later, Zoro had grabbed a fistful of Sanji’s hair and was fucking his face fast, hard, almost feral. The cook could do nothing but submit, eyes wide open.

_There we go. Didn’t take you that long, you pseudo swordsman._

Sanji’s cock throbbed painfully when Zoro took up the pace. Although the chef’s didn’t have much of a gag reflex, he struggled quite soon to not throw up.

But Zoro stopped approximately at the right time.

He would never make Sanji throw up. Food shouldn’t go to waste.

He pulled out completely, finally letting Sanji breathe freely again. Saliva was running down the blond man’s chin, his face was red, and his eyes were full with tears. Zoro was panting. They were both satisfied.

“You’re not gonna let me win easily, huh?”

Sanji wiped the corner of his mouth with a hand, intently looking right in Zoro’s eyes.

“No, I’m not”, he answered, panting.

“Hmf.”

Zoro chuckled darkly.

“And yet, earlier, I thought I heard - “

“Are you gonna fuck me, or what?” Cut Sanji.

The anger that passed in Zoro’s eyes made Sanji’s cock harden, if it was even possible. He swallowed, the noise ringing through the room. His throat still burned and felt painful.

“Lie down on the top of the table, back against it.”

Sanji had never moved so fast. He swiftly jumped on his legs… and almost fell over. His brain still lacked oxygen, and he stood up too fast.

Zoro’s torso caught him before he hit the ground. He blinked.

“Are you okay?”

It took him a few seconds to feel his extremities again, and get rid of the stars around the corners of his vision.

“Sanji. Color.”

Zoro was holding him, his arms coating him, his warm and large torso in his back seemingly never letting go.

“Green.”

He felt the swordsman’s frown more than he saw it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes”, Sanji spat, exasperated. “You don’t think you won just like this, do you? Come on, hurry up and fu - “

Zoro suddenly hardened his grip on Sanji’s arm and pushed him toward the table. Sanji’s hips banged painfully against it, all air leaving his lungs, making an “oof” sound.

“If you try and order me around one more time, Sanji, I’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit for the next three days.”

Sanji bit his lip. That was an invitation, or he didn’t know anything. He spread his legs and bent over until his torso rested completely on the table. He arched his back, exposing his redened ass to the man who was devouring them with nothing but a look. He put his hands on the table, making sure he got a good grip, and turned his head.

He uncovered his teeth in a mocking smile.

“Fuck me, mosshead.”

And he lost his mind.

He screamed immediately. Although he was ready for an assault like this, he didn’t suspect it would be so violent.

But _fuck_ , that was exactly what he wanted. That was exactly what he needed.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

He couldn’t control his cursing. Zoro gripped his hips so hard Sanji was certain he would have bruises all over them in the morning.

The swordsman was fucking him relentlessly, with the strength and the desperation of a dying man. The thought made Sanji feel all warm inside - he wasn’t the only one so rudely frustrated by the other. Soon enough, though, he couldn’t think of anything - everything disappeared, leaving only his sensations, his hips meeting the table again and again at an extraordinarily fast pace, his nails scratching the wood to keep hold of himself and fight the pain, and that _pleasure,_ that frantic pleasure that came in wild waves, everytime Zoro hit his prostate and lit it on fire. He felt full, so full, nothing else could fill him like this.

He belonged here.

Zoro too had lost his mind. The cook had attacked him with a look, and his desire had took over every cool he had. The only thing he was conscious of, during this split second when he felt himself shift, was that he needed to fuck the blond, immediately. He needed to see his ass full, needed to see his body shaking under him, needed to hear his screams of pain and pleasure, needed to thrash this body around and mark it with his hands, teeth, fists.... make him his.

He couldn’t take it any longer. He fisted Sanji’s hair on the back of his head and slammed him on the table, _hard_. The blond whined - with pleasure, pain, none of them really knew - that only encouraged Zoro.

Their groans were soon enough the only thing that filled the room, and Zoro congratulated himself on waiting on a day when all the other Straw Hats went off the ship. Robin would have been lurking somewhere otherwise. Although the swordsman had used that threat against Sanji earlier, he had no intention to ever make their arrangement a public thing. It was theirs, his and Sanji’s, and that was it.

“Zo… Zoro, I’m gonna - “

Never stopping, Zoro grabbed the base of Sanji’s cock, and squeezed.

“Not yet.”

Sanji brought his fist down the table, hard, so hard the wood almost cracked. He groaned in frustration.

“Fuck, shitty mosshead!”

The swordsman grinned widely. He had the power. He could do _whatever he wanted_ to Sanji.

The cook had no control of himself anymore. The hand around his cock made him lose his mind. Zoro, in his ass, was fast, violent, and he destroyed everything. Sanji hardly even noticed that a string of saliva was hanging out his lips - he was choking under Zoro’s wild grip on his neck. His cheek, pressed against the table, was already reddening under the pressure. His face would be blue in the morning. He was hurting. He was bleeding. Maybe? Maybe not. It was good. He was hot. He was sweating, he thought. He wanted to come. He needed to come. He couldn’t. It was pounding into him, right there. It was worse than everything he ever knew. He was crying. Frustration? Pleasure. Frustration. He had to come. Shit.

“Who do you belong to, Sanji?”

Zoro’s voice.

“You. I belong to you.”

The obvious.

“Exactly.”

A thrust, more powerful than all the others, if that was even possible. Sanji’s voice lost got lost between his throat and lips. His legs shook under him. He wasn’t even supporting himself at this point - Zoro, his body, his raw strength was the only thing keeping him from collapsing on the ground. Were there tears in his eyes, or was he so lost that his vision was blurry? Why did he ask himself that?

Oh, right, to not come.

Why did he not want to come?

Oh, right, for Zoro.

Because Zoro was about to make him come himself and Sanji trusted him.

His orgasm belonged to Zoro.

Because his entire being belonged to Zoro.

Because his heart was swelling at this simple thought.

Lost in an ocean of bliss, he didn’t notice that Zoro had slowed down, lowering the pressure on his neck as well. Sanji sighed.

“Zoro.”

“Hm?”

The desire in the swordsman’s voice filled Sanji with such immense pride that he felt that his heart was about to burst.

“Please”, he pleaded with a quiet, peaceful voice. “Please, make me come.”

An electric shock went through the green-haired man’s spine. The tone Sanji had just used, the one he only ever used when he lost himself between two cotton clouds, drunk on Zoro and everything he stood for… was making him crazy.

Sanji’s debauchery was intoxicating. The swordsman wanted to lick it until there was nothing left. Absorb it and make it his. Gorge himself on the blond’s submission, find the paradise it was hiding, and that only Sanji had the key to. Supreme ecstasy rested in the pacified, shaking body of the Straw Hat crew’s cook.

Fuck.

Zoro wanted it all. And since Sanji was offering himself so gracefully, he took. He took, and he took, and he took, he took until there was nothing left.

Sanji’s orgasm came down in a concert of strangled cries, of shaking bodies, of sweat and semen on Zoro’s hand and on the floor. The swordsman came with him. He couldn’t hold back. There was something thrilling about the way the cook’s body moved, savoring every split second of the orgasm Zoro was giving him, rolling his hips desperately as to swallow every tiny drop of the green-haired man, spasms in his body spreading up to his hands on the table, hands that couldn’t hold onto anything now, hair wet with sweat framing his reddened face, mouth wide open on an inarticulate cry, high and throaty, a song to Zoro’s ears…

When finally, the chef’s body relaxed around him, and his voice went quiet so that Sanji could breathe normally again, Zoro thought that he _really_ didn’t want that moment to pass. That he wanted to stop time to stay here, forever in Sanji, his only vision the sight of his relaxed back muscles. Both of them shaking with pleasure. Zoro collapsed softly on the cook, who sighed, air leaving his lungs. The swordsman turned his head. Sanji was smiling. Pure bliss.

“Sanji.”

“Hm?”

Zoro began pulling out, but the chef’s threw a hand in his back, touching Zoro’s hips with the tip of his fingers. 

“No. Stay here a minute.”

The green-haired man smiled.

“Alright.”

Silence. Their breaths. Their warmth against one another. Exhaustion, mixed with a blissful feeling both of them rarely ever knew.

“How are you feeling?” asked Zoro softly against Sanji’s ear.

He shuddered.

“I’ve been better”, he admitted. “It hurts everywhere. But,” he continued quickly, sensing Zoro’s worried look, “in the good way.”

He stopped talking. Zoro’s arms coated him tenderly. Warm.

“Was…”

He didn’t dare.

“Was I…?”

Ugh, fuck. Why couldn’t he get it out?

“Yes.”

Sanji raised a curled brow. _He’s speaking to himself now?_

“Yes, you were amazing. You’re always amazing for me, gorgeous.”

_Oh._

He chuckled softly. Zoro hugged him tighter.

“Gotta say, I’m good at what I do, huh…”

The swordsman gently slapped him on the back of his skull. Playful.

“Quiet that ego down, cook. I’m the one who won, today.”

“Hm.”

Zoro pulled out, slowly, making the battered cook sigh.

“This time, maybe, mossface. But I let you win.”

Sanji tried to straighten himself, slowly. His back cracked and he wasn’t sure he could close his legs just yet. He turned around, a hand keeping his sweaty hair from falling on his face, to meet Zoro’s satisfied grin.

“That’s what you say, swirly.”

“We’ll settle this next time. What do you say?”

“And what gives you the idea there’s gonna be a next time?”

Sanji’s lips curled into a smile.

“There’s always a next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Don't hesitate to leave a kudo or write a comment if you liked it. 
> 
> Also, if something bothered you along the line of phrasing, grammar, or anything really, please tell me! I'd be glad to learn from my mistakes, and I'm trying to get better at translating.


End file.
